З життя
Didn’t Attend the Milestone Celebration for My Mother-in-Law
15June2023
Its been a strange few weeks. Emily woke up with a temperature of forty degrees Celsius a proper high fever and refused to go to her motherinlaws sixtieth birthday. I tried to persuade her, but she was determined, pulling on a thin jacket while her hands trembled so badly she could barely get it over her elbows.
Sophie, pull her down onto the sofa, I heard my sisterinlaw shout, grabbing Emilys shoulders. She kept trying to get up, insisting she had to finish a report for work. What report? You can barely stand! Call your boss and say youre ill.
I cant, Emily snapped. Ive already taken two sick days this month. Theyll sack me.
Sophie ripped the jacket from her and flung it onto the armchair. Sit down now! Ill call a doctor.
Emily collapsed onto the couch, her head spinning, vision fuzzy. She works as an accounts clerk in a small retail firm in Croydon the pay isnt great, but losing the job would mean wed be living paycheck to paycheck.
Ive called Andrew, Sophie said, dialing my number. Hell come and get her home.
Dont bother, Emily muttered. Hes in a meeting.
Sophies voice rose. I dont care about his meeting! My sisterinlaw is dying and hes sitting in a conference!
I arrived half an hour later, helped Emily into bed, and called the GP. He prescribed a course of antibiotics and strict bed rest.
Youll be in bed for a week, no work, he said. A fever of forty isnt a joke. Keep an eye on it or youll end up in the hospital.
When the doctor left, I sat on the edge of the bed.
Emily, why didnt you tell me you were that badly ill?
Work
Work can wait. Your health comes first.
She closed her eyes, exhausted. The endless cycle of work, house chores, cooking and cleaning fell on her shoulders alone; I was rarely helpful, always claiming I was knackered after my own job.
The phone buzzed. A text from Margaret Whitmore, my motherinlaw, read: Emily, dont forget my birthday dinner on Thursday at 2pm. Please be on time.
Emily let out a groan. Margarets sixtieth birthday was being celebrated at a fancy restaurant in Windsor, with half a hundred relatives, friends and colleagues.
Andrew, Mums text, she said. She wants me there.
Yes, tomorrow, I replied. You remember?
I do, but Im ill. I cant go.
I frowned. How could you not? This is my mothers birthday!
My temperature is still high! The doctor said a week in bed, she protested.
Take the fever reducer, and well be there in two days.
Its not that simple!
Margaret was a formidable woman, quick to hold a grudge if things didnt go her way, and she never gave me any credit. She seemed to think I could find a better wife.
Ill be honest, I said, I cant physically make the journey.
Emily, try anyway! For me!
Your mothers upset already, I argued. Shell think Im choosing her over you.
Its not about choosing, Emily snapped. Im literally on my deathbed here!
I moved to the kitchen and called my mother.
Hi, Mum Yes, Im calling about Emily Shes got a high fever, we dont know if shell be fit to travel Please, try not to get upset
She sighed heavily. If you dont turn up, Ill never want to see you again.
Good, I dont want to see you either, Emily muttered.
Later that night she whispered, Andrew, what if she decides Im deliberately avoiding her?
Then shell think Im a coward, I said, feeling the weight of her disappointment.
The next morning her temperature dipped to 38°C. She managed to make herself a broth, though she still felt weak.
Sophie called.
How are you now?
Better, the fevers gone down.
Good. Youre not going to work tomorrow?
No, the GP gave me a weeks sick leave.
Your mothers birthday is tomorrow.
Andrew wants me to go.
What, with a fever?
He says Mum will be hurt.
What about your health?
Apparently, nothing to him.
Sophie was silent for a moment.
Do you really want to go, or stay home?
Ill stay. I have no strength, and I dont want to see her angry.
She agreed. Let him go alone.
Even though I knew Sophie was right, I felt uneasy. Margaret could hold a grudge for months, refusing to speak and turning her son against his wife.
That evening I came home with a bouquet of roses, intending to give them to Margaret the next day.
Are you sure you wont go? I asked Emily.
Absolutely not.
She nodded, grateful.
The following day her temperature spiked to 39°C. She took her antipyretic and stayed in bed, unable to move. I was getting ready for the birthday, polishing my shoes and adjusting my tie.
Emily, youll manage on your own?
Ill manage.
I left, promising to tell Mom I was ill.
When I returned late that night, the house was quiet. Emilys phone buzzed. It was Margaret.
Emily? Its Margaret. Ive heard youre ill. You wont be coming to my birthday?
Yes, Im terribly sorry. The doctor has ordered me to stay in bed.
There was a long pause.
So on the day Ive turned sixty, you decide to stay in bed?
Im seriously ill!
Everyone gets ill, but they still find the strength to attend important events.
I havent.
Fine. At least you were honest.
She hung up, leaving a heavy silence.
The next day Sophie called again.
How did it go?
Margaret called. She was furious.
Dont worry about her. Shell be fine without you.
I could see the relief in Emilys eyes.
A week later Emilys fever finally broke. She started walking around the flat, though she was still weak. Our conversations grew terse; I would come home, eat dinner, and retreat to the other room.
Are we going to keep silent? she asked one night.
About what?
About everything that happened.
I was at my mothers birthday. I told her you were ill.
You could have tried harder.
I couldnt physically.
She stood up. Then enough is enough.
I replied, Im sorry you feel that way, but my mother is my mother.
She shook her head. Does a wife not deserve protection?
I had no answer.
The next morning Emily called Sophie.
Andrew wants a divorce.
What? Over the birthday?
Yes, over everything.
I called her.
Emily, I think its best we end this.
She was silent, then said, I agree.
We divided what we could and I moved back into the flat we shared.
Emily found a small studio in Brighton, landed a betterpaying job as a senior accounts assistant, joined a gym, and began travelling with friends.
Sophie was delighted. You look radiant, love!
Yes, Im finally free.
Six months later she met Alex Turner, a divorced engineer who lived alone in Oxford. He was warm, didnt talk about his mother every five minutes, and respected boundaries.
We both have parents who keep their distance, he said over coffee.
Exactly, Emily replied.
They married a year later in a modest ceremony with only close family and friends. Alexs mother, a kind lady, told them, Live the way you want, just be happy.
I bumped into Alex and Emily one afternoon in a park. He was with a young woman, his new girlfriend.
Hi, Emily, I said, extending my hand.
Hello, Andrew, she answered, smiling. Im married now.
Congratulations, I replied. Shes lovely.
We chatted briefly and went our separate ways.
Looking back, that birthday I refused to attend was the turning point. It forced me to choose between a toxic loyalty and my own wellbeing. I lost a marriage, but Emily found a life where she could finally put herself first.
Lesson learned: you must protect your health and selfrespect, even when it means saying no to those who would rather you sacrifice yourself.
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